


Cold is the Night (Leave the Light On)

by Lenabenaaaa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Age play but with a purpose, Basically Hermione gets taken and Harry and Ron get away, But what do they want from her??..., F/F, F/M, Hermione is kidnapped by snatchers, Multi, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, The Lestranges keep her on the Dark Lord's orders, noncon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenabenaaaa/pseuds/Lenabenaaaa
Summary: Although she was trapped, Hermione didn't lower her fists. Of course she wouldn't go easily. Bellatrix looked the girl up and down and sighed. She seemed bored. "Come now, pet. I grow tired of your games for today. We have for more pressing matters to attend to." The woman stepped forward to grab Hermione, and that was all the girl needed. She swung with her right hand, which was easily dodged by Bellatrix, who took the wide-open girl and gave her a firm shove to the ground. The woman towered over the girl, glaring down at her over the end of her nose."Or what," Hermione couldn't help herself, even as she was pushing herself off the floor once again, "You'll crucio me again?"Bellatrix was over her faster than Hermione could blink. The woman had forced Hermione back on the floor and climbed on top of her. She sheathed her wand, opting for a different approach. "You'll soon find, pet," She placed a hand over Hermione's throat and gently squeezed, smiling as the girl's face turned red under the pressure, "That there are worse things than the cruciatus curse."
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange
Comments: 47
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

Cold.  
  
Cold and dull throbbing. She couldn't pinpoint from where. Everywhere, she guessed. Especially in her head. Why did her head hurt so badly?  
  
Hermione shivered.  
  
Her body felt heavy and she wasn't so inclined to want to move. She realized she was lying down, and the bed underneath her was possibly the most uncomfortable one she'd ever experienced. So she forced herself to tip herself onto her back, when her muscles gave out and the hard surface that she'd collapsed on pushed the air from her lungs. Definitely not a bed.  
  
The painful movement lead her to believe she was better off staying still for the moment. She relaxed her jaw and sucked a shaky breath into her lungs. She could not afford to panic right now. An uneasy feeling formed in Hermione's stomach. Shoving the feeling down, she begged for the more rational side of her mind. It reminded that in confusing situations, she should focus on her senses to ground herself. She didn't dare move anything again, but felt the firm ground, grimy beneath her bare hands. Next was smell, and she struggled to take in another breath. She immediately smelled her own sweat, telling her that she'd either been partaking in a strenuous physical exercise shortly before her unconsciousness or that she'd been asleep for a long time. Neither felt very comforting, considering that she couldn't quite grasp at the memory immediately predating now. Upon further inhalations, she smelled the dirt that must be under her fingers as well as a distinct _damp_ smell. Like she was in a cellar. She then turned her attention on her ears. The sound, or complete lack-of, thoroughly destroyed any semblance of calmness she'd been regaining in her little exercise. It was _too_ quite. She could only hear the accelerando of her heart beat.  
  
At the panic of the silence, Hermione's eyes shot open, determined to get to the bottom of what'd happened to her. She immediately regretted it. She fought her drooping eyelids as her vision swam. It was cloudy, like she'd opened her eyes while under water, and the swaying of the room made it difficult to identify. She was sure it was some sort of cellar, as so she'd already assumed, but couldn't tell if she recognized it or not.  
  
None of this made any _sense_.  
  
Hermione was forced to close her eyes again, and couldn't help the frustrated tears that seeped out. What was happening here?  
  
After several calming breaths, Hermione was forcing herself into action. She placed her right palm on the dirty floor and propped herself up, swallowing the accompanying wave of nausea. Something was _very_ wrong here and she knew she needed to get a grip. She needed to get out of here. She'd be safe with her friends. Within a couple beats, after the dizziness had subsided, Hermione chanced a glance down at the rest of her body, hoping for clues and no surprises.  
  
She was relieved to find herself still wearing the outfit she'd put on that morning, and even more relieved to find that she'd remembered that. Hermione remembered pulling up the boot-cut jeans around her waist and being disappointed to see that she'd soon need a belt for this pair. She sighed as she remembered pulling on the jacket over her jumper and t-shirt that morning because it was winter and very chilly. She breathed relief, however slightly, at the memory of tying her runners extra tight that morning--as she had done the few mornings before--in case they were to run into any more trouble.  
  
They'd been camping, trying to find Voldemort's horcuxes. Her, Ron, and Harry. They'd been pursued by the Snatchers at almost every step. Some had finally caught up with them, and although Hermione had ran only shortly behind her friends, she hadn't been fast enough. One Snatcher had caught her and she remembered distinctly the stretching feeling from apparition and landing in a dark, grand, and sumptuous manor. Hermione pushed her mind further to recall what'd happened next, and was accosted by a foggy memory of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand pointed straight at her. Then it all went dark. Hermione was compelled to believe that Lestrange had cursed her, which had led her to her current, lamentable predicament.  
  
Her eyes flashed open, sure she'd heard something outside of her room. Her vision was better this time, the window letting in a dismal amount of sunlight but it still being _too_ bright. She did a quick second scan, noting that the high window and single, metal door were the only things that occupied the space besides her. It was only when, a few seconds later, that she heard the distant noise again, that she remembered her wand. She frantically patted her pockets, where she usually kept her wand. When it didn't turn up, she patted her chest, waist, and ankles to no avail. Someone had taken her wand. The uneasy feeling in her stomach grew worse.  
  
And the sound grew closer. Hermione knew she had to do something. She couldn't... _wouldn't_... sit idly by and accept whatever was going to happen to her. It was the very antithesis to who she was as a wizard. She was a fighter, and she was about to fight like hell. They were in a war, dammit, and Harry and Ron needed her help. But she knew that her reputation likely proceeded her these days, her captor likely knowing of her alliance with the Order and to Harry himself. She would need to be prepared for anything. Fight anything.  
  
There was a bang on the door. No warning. Hermione dragged herself to the wall and pushed her feet underneath her. She couldn't stop the groan that escaped as her shoulder fell harshly against the hard surface. Wandless, yes--but not defenseless. Hermione figured she'd have to do this the old fashioned way. She'd storm her captor, hopefully catch them off guard, maybe grab a wand that works well enough to get her out of here. She had to get back to her friends. She had a war to win.  
  
The door swung open abruptly, accompanied by a mangled laugh. Lestrange. Hermione quelled her fear because she knew she had to act. Now or never. She steadied her fists and took a few steps to cross the small room. They were slower than she'd wanted, but a raised wand and it's adjoining hand had entered the room as she made it to the door. Quickly, she grabbed at the hand and made to snatch the wand, yanking the entire arm behind it into the room with her. She'd managed to knock the wand from the grip, but it was knocked away instead of into her hand.  
  
She'd only barely lifted her foot to give chase to the fallen wand when she heard the rich, velvety word. "Impedimenta."  
  
The hex was not yelled or even forced, but the casual tone reached Hermione's ears long after she was thrown to the floor. She landed face first, barely bracing herself with her hands, but not strong enough to lower herself easily. She collapsed heavily, the breath once again expelled from her lungs.  
  
"That wasn't very nice." The velvety tone was replaced by a high-pitched whine that Hermione was very familiar with. "Are you alright, love?"  
  
Hermione wasn't in enough pain from the fall to not find the term strange. Why would Lestrange force her down then ask if she's alright? The girl heard movement behind her.  
  
"Oi, yea, darling. I'm alright." A man's voice answered, rising. Deeply confused, Hermione managed to push herself up enough to look over her shoulder to see a man, about the same age as Lestrange, dusting off his coat. "She's gonna be right tricky, this one. I can tell."  
  
"I like that she's feisty, love. Loads more interesting." Lestrange laughed, with the man joining in.  
  
The girl, deeply confused, lowered herself back to the floor as she rolled her neck. _What_ was happening? Who is that man? What does Bellatrix Lestrange want with her?  
  
Before she got to form any preliminary theories, Hermione was rolled over onto her back. Her eyes flashed around in panic, to find Lestrange kneeling beside her. "Now, pet, I'll let that one go, seeing as you didn't know, but you'll soon learn not to expect such forgiveness from me." The woman's lips pushed out in a fake concerned pout as she scanned over the girl. "We'll need to run her a bath, first." Bellatrix noted the darkening sky. "Then it'll be off to bed with this one."  
  
Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, as the women's words hadn't made any sense to her. All too suddenly, the man reached down to grab the girl's arm, to which Hermione instantly shrugged off. "Get off me!" The girl started to shuffle backwards, away from the terrible woman and strange man.  
  
Lestrange sprung to her feet, quickly and easily closing the distance between her and the girl. She dug her fingers deep into Hermione's curls and pulled upwards, eliciting an unabashed cry from the girl's throat. "You'd do _well_ to obey, _little girl_." She gritted into the girl's ear, suddenly too close for Hermione's comfort. Not that anything about this situation was comfortable. The woman pushed the girl's head as she released her, and Hermione lost her balance and fell flesh against the floor. She sure was tired of falling against this stone.  
  
"Sit up." Bellatrix Lestrange barked nonchalantly, back still turned to the girl, not even bothering to see if she did as she'd asked. "On your knees, pet. Chop, chop." Her sing-song command was so unnerving that Hermione bit back a challenging remark. _What_ was going on here? And if it were almost dusk, why hadn't Harry and the Order come to rescue her yet?  
  
When Hermione didn't immediately comply, she felt the man this time grip her shoulders and throw her into the requested position. His fingers dug deep in the muscle and although his hands only had touched her for maybe ten seconds, the girl was sure there would be bruises later. She didn't dare try to roll out the injury, though. Something felt so off here. The couple before her seemed... Playful, almost. Unconcerned, but slightly annoyed by her behavior. Why hadn't they tortured her yet? She would've thought that Voldemort would've set a deadline on when he needed Harry's location. These people seemed like they had all the time in the world.  
  
"Hubby, if you will, please." The older woman's face begged with a dramatic lip and puppy eyes. Hermione looked at the man too. The slick, dark hair. Grey but shadowed eyes. The man was Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix's husband. Hermione had never had the _pleasure_ of meeting him before. As Hermione was struggling to put together the new piece to the puzzle she'd already been building in her mind, Rodolphus produced an thin and silver chain from his coat and displayed it for Hermione to see.  
  
"This, _pet_ , is an enchanted chain that will go around your ankle. Its purpose is to dampen your _filthy_ magic to be weaker than it already is. You will not be able to remove it, so don't even give it a try." Her eyes seemed to dare a challenge. Hermione silently accepted that challenge. "Go ahead, love." She nudged the man beside her.  
  
As Rodolphus approached the girl with the small chain, Bellatrix pulled her wand and pointed it to Hermione, ready for any _s_ _mart_ moves the girl might try. Hermione figured the woman must know her--or her reputation with the other Death Eaters she'd bested already--well enough to know of the resistance that Hermione had within her. Which she knew would make another appearance soon.  
  
And so it did. Although she knew her odds were dismal at best, the girl leaned back, out of Rodolphus' touch in attempt to get a leg free to kick with. Bellatrix, again, anticipated her response and nipped it in the bud. "Crucio."  
  
The girl felt fire erupt within her. In a fraction of a second, the heat inside her had exploded from her core out to even the hair on her arms. From her tip toes, to the ends of her ears, all she felt was a painful, white heat burn through her. She instantly lost any ability to control herself, and felt herself fall back to the god-forsaken floor in a near similar position she'd awaken in. Her back arched in desperate attempt to flee the pain and every muscle in her body locked tight. She vaguely felt something tugging at her ankle, but couldn't force her eyes open enough to investigate. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. Everything was just _pain_.  
  
It stopped abruptly. Hermione was sure she'd just experienced the longest known crucio curse, but upon inspection of Bellatrix's face, it seemed as though they'd stopped because older witch had desired to move on from something so _boring_ as torture.  
  
"Now, if you'd just _obey_ we wouldn't need to use that anymore." Rodolphus dotingly commented as picked the girl up and placed her back in her kneeling position.  
  
The woman stood from her position and laughed, "Or is baby to scared of cruciatus?" Her high voice rung irritatingly in Hermione's ears.  
  
"I am _not_ afraid." The young witch grunted, once again trying to catch her breath as a new layer of sweat dried across her skin. Although the couple looked to each other and laughed, Hermione steeled her nerves and persevered. "Well, go ahead." Her jaw clinched, raised high in false bravado. "Do your worst."  
  
The mangled chuckle that left Bellatrix's mouth resonated around the room for several long seconds. "Oh, you really have no clue what is going on, do you, Muddy?" She bowed before the girl and roughly tapped against her cheek. Hermione was fuming at the slur. She promised herself that the _second_ she got her wand back, she'd have Bellatrix pay for it.  
  
"We're not going to torture you, girl." A small smirk played across Rodolphus' lips. He looked again to his wife before crouching beside her and in front of the girl.  
  
Hermione's mind was spinning. "That's right." She asserted, with a bold confidence pulled from thin air with no real backing. She made herself take a deep breath. "It seems very clear to everyone that I won't be speaking about _anything_." The girl forced herself to her feet, standing up tall in the looming faces of the Lestranges, hovering just below Bellatrix's eye level and several inches below Rodolphus'.  
  
"Not so fast, pet." Bellatrix warned playfully, blocking the girl's exit. "There's something we need from you before we can allow you to... go."  
  
Hermione attempted a step around her, but Bellatrix stepped into her new path, dragging her crooked wand along her arm. It felt like they were toying with her. Assuming they're true to their word--which was _not_ at all guaranteed--they had no intention of interrogating her, because they had to know that she wouldn't speak about the Order in any other way. But other than using the Cruciatus Curse... They just seemed intent to stand around lazily chatting with her. Hermione, however, had better things to do. Frustrated, the girl huffed, "I won't be _doing_ anything for _you_. Now, if you'll excuse me: Mr. Lestrange. Mrs. Lestrange." The girl missed how the couple eyed each other at the titles, smirking. "If you aren't going to torture me then, I have obligations in the war--"  
  
An obnoxious laugh interrupted her, but it did not inspire a funny feeling in Hermione's stomach. It did inspire, however, a very, very bad one. That whatever Bellatrix uttered next would _not_ be good news. "Then you are released from those obligations." Bellatrix's wand which had been hovering over her arm, trailed along her collarbone and neck and its owner used it to tip the girl's chin to face the woman directly. "As there is no war, pet."  
  
Hermione searched the woman for clarification, and when she gave none, looked to her husband who looked upon the pair with a fascinated interest. Bellatrix reveled as the girl's eyes flooded with confusion, and then sprinkled with tears. Maybe the girl was more clever than she thought, as it seemed that the girl figured that if she were there--with the Lestranges--the war had likely not been decided in her favor. The girl stumbled back, Rodolphus taking a step forward to grab the girl in case she collapsed. But she only fell slightly against the wall, and used it as support to keep her up.  
  
"What do you mean?" The girl asked only a few seconds later, her features still clouded with confusion and loss.  
  
Rodolphus became gentle, his wife noticed the relaxation of his major muscles and adopted his tone. "The war, it's over. The Dark Lord won."  
  
A few, but only a few, tears fell from Hermione's eyes. "How?" was all she managed to ask.  
  
Bellatrix couldn't help the grin that appeared on her face. "Didn't you recognize the headache you woke up with?"  
  
The girl felt cold. Her skin felt warm--too warm, somehow--residual from the cruciatus curse. But her heart and her mind were cold. Because she did now recognize the headache she woke up with on the floor just inches from where she now stood. Horrified, the answer tumbled out of her mouth, "Legilimency."  
  
The cheer Bellatrix made startled Hermione. It was too loud for the small room and the people that stood so close. "Good girl." The woman praised, and looked to the girl with something that Hermione couldn't decipher.  
  
This was bad. Like, _really_ bad. She'd been captured by the enemy, which wasn't pleasant but she'd accepted it as possible byproduct of being so close to Harry. But she'd been relying on their rescue. She'd known that Harry and Ron wouldn't sleep until they got her back safety. She'd been counting on it. But if something... bad, had happened to them, it might explain why they hadn't come to get her yet. They might never come to get her. Which left her in an extremely dangerous position. She wasn't an enemy anymore, she was a part of the _loosing side_ which in Voldemort's rule probably meant death to any known associates of Harry's or the Order. But she's not dead yet. They must've kept her alive for a reason. She didn't intend on sticking around long enough to find it out.  
  
Hermione, for once in her life, didn't think--just acted. She rashly pushed her way between the Lestranges and bolted out the door. She'd thought she'd pushed at least one of them down hard enough to knock them over, but knew she didn't have long before they caught up with her. She needed an escape plan, soon. She took a left out of the door and pushed off the door to accelerate into the corridor. It was dark and lined with stone, like the room she'd been kept in, and stalled as she realized she was probably underground. That would certainly complicate her escape.  
  
Whispers from behind her motivated her into action. The stone corridors split off in different, haphazard directions periodically and Hermione randomly turned into new corners. She dared not to look behind her, hearing the calls of the Lestranges behind her get closer. "Better stop now, pet." "It'll be easier if you give up now." "Girl, stop running." They yelled as the followed her twists and turns. The tunnels were a bloody maze, a dark and expansive catacombs that must be enchanted underneath the grounds of a property. Hermione supposed she expected nothing less from the Lestranges.  
  
And then, the dreadful happened. Hermione took a blind turn around a corner and into an empty alcove. No windows or doors for escaping. Not without magic, at least. But the girl figured she wouldn't be in this predicament if she'd had her magic fully about her. But to her, for now, it was just an empty, dusty alcove. And she was trapped.  
  
"Uh oh," Bellatrix feigned sadness, "Took a wrong turn, did we?" Rodolphus stood just behind her.  
  
"Leave me alone." Hermione heaved heavily from the running. She lifted her fists, ready to strike at whoever dared tried her first.  
  
"That was very naughty, girl, trying to run off like that. Like we'd let that happen." Rodolphus scoffed, laughingly.  
  
Although she was trapped, Hermione didn't lower her fists. Of course she wouldn't go easily. Bellatrix looked the girl up and down and sighed. She seemed bored. "Come now, pet. I grow tired of your games for today. We have for more pressing matters to attend to." The woman stepped forward to grab Hermione, and that was all the girl needed. She swung with her right hand, which was easily dodged by Bellatrix, who took the wide-open girl and gave her a firm shove back to the ground. The woman towered over the girl, glaring down at her over the end of her nose.  
  
"Or what," Hermione couldn't help herself, even as she was pushing herself off the floor for what had to be the hundredth time that day, "You'll crucio me again?"  
  
Bellatrix was over her faster than Hermione could blink. The woman had forced Hermione back on the floor and climbed on top of her. She sheathed her wand, opting for a different approach. "You'll soon find, pet," She placed a hand over Hermione's throat and gently squeezed, smiling as the girl's face turned red under the pressure, "That there are worse things than the cruciatus curse." Her mood shifted back from serious to manic in seconds as she climbed off the gasping girl.  
  
As Rodolphus yanked the girl up, Hermione thought that she'd never felt so confused in her life. It was becoming _painfully_ apparent that blatant rebellion wasn't the best route here. She was beginning to think another strategy might be needed in this situation. Hermione was _never_ one to sit idly by, but here, she might have to. She needed to listen and learn, there were so many things that still didn't make sense to her. It seemed that the couple would at least give her straight forward answers if she asked calmly. And there was one question she really needed answered.  
  
"What do you want from me?" She asked as Rodolphus dragged her behind a skipping Bellatrix.  
  
The wizard smirked. "For you to _obey_." He said simply. "If you just _obey_ , you'll be _just_ fine."  
  
 _Well what did_ that _mean?_


	2. Chapter Two

Large arms hauled her up and into a fireman's carry, despite Hermione's thrashes for escape. "I will _never_ obey you." She spat at the man carrying her.  
  
"Oh, we'll just see about that, pet." Bellatrix sung as she led the pair through the dark corridors.  
  
"Put me down!" Hermione cried. She was frustrated. The more she fought, the tighter the man's grip seemed to get. It was like a boa constrictor, and she soon couldn't move or breathe at all. "Please." She whimpered. "Let me go." Tears once again made a desperate reappearance. But she wasn't scared or hopeless. She was angry. She was frustrated by her situation and the raging lunatics that seemed content with teasing her instead of returning her to her friends.  
  
Rodolphus suddenly, without warning, dropped her to the ground. "Alright, little girl," He sneered.  
  
Hermione didn't understand his sudden willingness to let go of her, but she managed to brace herself well enough that her head didn't hit the ground. Her right wrist hurt especially bad, and more tears escaped as she gripped it to her chest, ignoring the burning of her knees that also begged for her attention. She held it tight, hoping to reduce the swelling she already felt growing. She needed to get out of here, away from the Lestranges and back to her friends. Hermione forced her left foot up and under her to begin to stand up.  
  
The girl had just lifted her second knee when the blow came. Bellatrix bent over to drag a heavy, quick hand across the young wizard's face, knocking the girl back on her bottom. Face stinging, Hermione's free hand neglected her injured wrist to cradle her stinging cheek. She was sure her lip was bleeding, as she could taste the coppery liquid in her mouth.  
  
"You must earn the right to walk." A crazed fury flashed in the woman's eyes, before being quelled by the look of fear in Hermione's. "Crawl." She commanded simply.  
  
"W-what?" Hermione muttered. Surely, she hadn't heard her correctly.  
  
" _What? What?_ " Bellatrix mocked.  
  
Rodolphus clarified, "Don't say ' _what',_ girl. It makes you sound common."  
  
Hermione tried to stand again. This was _insane_. What was happening? She didn't even see the hand coming towards the second time. Bellatrix laughed as the slap resonated in the dark tunnel and the girl collapsed back on the floor. "Are you gonna try again, love?" Her tone was soft, but the words held a darker connotation. The young witch couldn't help herself. She clinched her jaw and tucked a foot underneath her again. And once again, the consequence was another heavy hand from Bellatrix. That one spun the girl's head to the floor, knocking it against the stone. Pain blossomed from her cheek and her vision spun. How was she supposed to escape if she couldn't even bare to stand?  
  
"Come on now, girl." The man followed the woman, not bothering to check behind them, as if there was no way Hermione would be stupid enough to try to get up again.  
  
And they were right. Hermione dutifully pulled herself onto her knees then placed both hands gingerly onto the cold ground. She tested her weight on her injured wrist, but hissed at the pain and immediately retracted it to her chest. She'd suppose she would have to limp along, then.  
  
Rodolphus noticed. "If you show some good will, we _might_ see about mending that wrist." He sounded genuine, but Hermione suspected this was just another of their games that they'd been playing against her. But it _hurt_. Not that Hermione wasn't used to pain, she'd had her fair share of injuries at during her misadventures at Hogwarts along side the boys. But she'd managed not to break any bones yet. She'd been careful. Not that that helped her now. Unfortunately, the pain of her wrist was bright and unfamiliar. It'd swollen to twice it's size already and she couldn't bare to move it.  
  
So, therefore, she was forced to stubbornly limp along on three limbs instead of four behind the Lestranges. She couldn't help but notice how fitting their last name was. Strange _indeed_.  
  
The stairs had to have been the worst part, the first set they came across fairly quickly. They were wooden and coarse. She fiercely tried to avoid the splintered parts, but had been so focused on what she'd come across with her hands, that she lifted a knee on the fourth step and tore it open on a jagged piece. A small whimper left her mouth. The Lestranges didn't even bother turning around to check on her. Hermione found herself horrified to expect that they would. Clinching her jaw, the girl steeled her focus back on climbing up the rest of the stairs. She ignored the pain screaming from her knee, which had at least distracted her from her wrist, as she drug herself up. Just three more... Two... One.  
  
She'd hauled herself up to the ground floor, made of an unforgiving cold tile that was so dark it didn't even show her reflection. Hermione gently placed her hurt wrist on the floor so that it might at least be soothed by the chill. She was so relieved by the slight relief that she found, that her distracted next steps sent her toppling into Bellatrix Lestranges' skirts. Cheeks burning, she fell back to her bottom and looked up with large eyes to the couple, who now stood still with crossed arms.  
  
"We can't very well let muddy drag that filthy blood around the manor, now can we?" Bellatrix asked her husband.  
  
Rodolphus tsk'ed. "We really must do everything for you, girl." He shook his head, seeming disappointed.  
  
"Well of course we must, hubby." Bellatrix laughed.  
  
Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. They were speaking directly in front of her, and mostly to her. But she didn't really understand what they meant. It was like they were speaking in tongues.  
  
Or knew something she didn't.  
  
Bellatrix broke their moment with a light chuckle, disturbing and off-kilter as always. "Well, chop chop. We've much to do."  
  
With that, Rodolphus reached down and scooped Hermione's thin frame in his arms. Before she really had much of a chance to resist--though it was inevitable--Bellatrix was hovering over her. Her position made her feel claustrophobic and untethered, as if drifting in a much precarious situation. As she guessed was true. The girl watched as the woman's hands neared her and braced to be slapped again, but her hands diverted. To her knee. Bellatrix dug a finger-nail into the girl's open wound.  
  
Hermione gasped in alarm mostly and made to kick before quickly learning that the movement only caused more pain. Rodolphus held her firmly and didn't allow for much movement anyway. Tears--hot and confused--rolled down the girl's face again and she hated herself for them. But instead she focused on pulling quick, heavy, and loud breaths into her lungs so she could get some of a grip. The woman, seeing the girl's eyes harden with stubbornness, laughed and wiggled the tip of her finger into the small cut, eliciting a verbal cry from Hermione at last.  
  
"Now, let's be a good girl, pet. Good girls are obedient." She retracted her bloodied finger and casually popped it into her mouth, smirking as the stubbornness faded to horror. "There we are." She turned her back on her husband and their captive, "Let's go on now, we don't have all day." And they resumed the march.  
  
Hermione was _reeling_. Nothing about what was happening made any sense. _Why_ would the Lestranges' keep her? They seemed to want something from her. Hermione was sure something was up, probably plenty that they weren't telling her. And fighting back against them wasn't seeming to get her anywhere except for more injured. She wasn't sure she could commit to the long-con, playing along with their little game until their motives became more clear. But it didn't seem like Hermione had much choice--she'd have to give _some_ so that she would live through the night with them.  
  
Her heart ached when she thought of her friends. The idea that they were... They hadn't... She couldn't even think it. But the very real possibility that _she_ was the reason that the war had ended and her friends were... Hermione was devastated. Broken, by the thought. If what the Lestranges' had said was true--which she hadn't seen actual _proof_ of yet--she promised herself that she'd make it up to them. Some how, some day, if she ever got out of here. She would.  
  
"Set her on the bed." Bellatrix commanded, the words pulling Hermione from her internal darkness to her external one.  
  
The girl looked around, confused, as she was placed onto a dark green bed. The bed itself was small but so was Hermione, possibly a twin size at biggest. But as she continued to look around, her confusion only grew. A dark bureau, a dark rocking chair, and a... crib? Everything was dark wood with green accents and it screamed Bellatrix. Then a disturbing thought settled into her stomach: was Bellatrix pregnant? Or desperately wanted to be? None of it made any sense and Hermione wasn't a friend to the feeling of not knowing.  
  
"What... Is this?" Hermione found herself muttering, looking to the older woman for answers once again. She barely noticed Rodolphus sauntering off through a door to a connecting room.  
  
Immediately after the words fell from her mouth, Bellatrix was grabbing at her outer jacket.  
  
The girl flashed back to the immediate now. She really ought to do better than letting her mind wonder, there were very real threats right in front of her that needed to be dealt with. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"  
  
Bellatrix snapped. Hermione was pushed back and suddenly the woman was over her. She hadn't bothered with a wand, instead favoring a hand around her tired neck. Hermione, with her good hand, reached up to attempt to pull back the cold fingers, but realized there was no pressure there. Bellatrix wasn't trying to choke her, just intimidate her. "I will _not_ tolerate such language, _little girl_. You will do well to mind your words." The woman pushed off her to right herself. She patted her dress down, "Now, you are absolutely filthy." It was a statement, clear and direct, with no hint of the crazed woman who'd just pinned her down. "It is well past time for a bath. You will follow me to the bathroom and undress and be bathed. If you _behave_ , I will _graciously_ mend that wrist. If you are naughty, I will break the other one." She stood from the bed. "Am I understood?"  
  
Hermione gave a single nod. Bellatrix was a so c _omplicated_. One moment, she's completely mad, and the next it's like it'd never happened. She'd be hurting her one moment, then almost soothing the next. Whatever scare tactic she was using to keep the girl disoriented was sure as hell working. She had no idea of what to expect from her captor.  
  
Bellatrix turned on her heels and Hermione knew she'd better follow. She couldn't risk two broken wrists right now. How could she escape with two broken wrists? The girl dragged herself across the room and followed Bellatrix into an orderly bathroom just off the bedroom. She wasn't surprised that it, just like the rest of the house, was dark in nature but also elegant and relentless. In the center of the large room was a tub, normally against one of the far walls but been moved for this occasion. It'd already been filled with water and waited expectantly for use.  
  
"You may undress now." The woman prompted, her feet steady on the ground as to be clear that she wouldn't be going anywhere. Hermione glanced around, sure that this was the door Rodolphus had been through, but not finding him present. She supposed she should find herself _lucky_.  
  
The girl opened her mouth to weakly protest out of pure will, but--honestly--, a bath sounded great right now. She hadn't really bathed while they were on the run finding horcruxes, and she knew she'd gotten very sweaty and dirty in her time with the Lestranges.  
  
" _Don't_ try me, pet." Mrs. Lestrange warned, a hint of her crazed self in her eyes, "Go on now."  
  
Hermione sighed in defeat. She could hardly believe herself. Out of all the fight she's put up today, she's giving up _now_? But she felt weary and exhausted and was desperate to have full function of her body. So she shrugged off her outer jacket.  
  
"Good girl." The woman praised, sending a flame of embarrassment through Hermione's body.

Still, she slid out of her jumper, exposing her bare arms. Only in a t-shirt and jeans now, the cold of the room seeped in, but also seeped Hermione's insecurity. She knew it was ridiculous. She knew that this wasn't her choice. It was all so _logical_. But even still, under the heavy gaze of the older woman, Hermione felt nauseous. She had never... Well, besides a few kisses over the years, she was a very private person. Always sure to change in the bathrooms and lock doors behind her at night. On the run, she'd had to sacrifice some of her privacy to Ron and Harry who honestly were like family at that point, but was sure to regain the feeling while reading books and such outside of the tent during her watch shift.  
  
And through it all, Hermione had _certainly_ never let anyone watch her naked. It wasn't that she had any real problem with her body. It'd been good to her; it'd fought trolls and Devil's Snare and even fought against the most powerful wizards alive. She recognized that, but that didn't mean that she didn't wish she could change a few things. She wished she were taller, and she wished she were stronger. Being on the run so long really had weathered her body. And oh, God, her _hair_. She was lucky that it was more tame than in her earlier years, but it was still in a constant state of disarray.  
  
No, her insecurity came from within. Insecurity that her soul would be laid bare when she would--inevitably--disrobe entirely. She'd liked the robes at Hogwarts, felt comforted by their unassuming uniformity. In those robes, she'd been only identified by her mind, which is how she preferred. It did, in fact, take Ron almost four years to even notice she was a girl. But with no robes, or no clothes at all for that matter, she was just. _.. Her_. Every inch of her laid completely bare for the crazed woman to see. She could already see into Hermione's mind, but there was no more hiding _anything_ as she pulled the last of her underwear off of her.  
  
"Hm." was Bellatrix's only reaction. Hermione could honestly say this would be the only time she'd be disappointed at a _lack_ of words from the woman. Her disinterested note seemed unsatisfying, as if a scathing insult about Hermione's body would make this situation less bizarre. Instead, she only noted the physical state of her. "You are absolutely filthy, girl. Get in the tub, you should find the water to a comfortable temperature."  
  
The girl padded to the tub and dipped a finger in. The water was surprisingly warm. If this were her own bath, she'd prefer it slightly warmer as to barely sting her skin. But the thought itself shook her to her core. How could she _possibly_ be commenting on her captive's bath temperature when her friends are _dead,_ likely by her hand. Heavy, Hermione sunk into the bath. Weeks worth of grime drifted away from her in the water and Hermione sighed, agreeing, she'd want to get away from her too.  
  
Water was dumped over her hair, the shock dragging her out of her misery. She gasped and spun to face Bellatrix, who knelled calmly at her side. "There's days worth of dirt coming off you." The woman noted, dumping another bucket of water over Hermione's shoulder. "How long where you out there in the woods before you were caught?"  
  
Hermione was immediately suspicious. Her motions were almost... Gentle. And her words seemed genuine. This must be some kind of trick to find out more information from her. But wouldn't she already know if she poked through her mind? The question brought relief, as _maybe_ there were some memories the woman couldn't get to while she was asleep.  
  
"This is for your face." Bellatrix offered her a washcloth, patiently offering and patiently waiting for Hermione's reaction.  
  
If Hermione were an expert in anything, it would be examination. And this felt like one. It was a test. Would Hermione be complicit for once, or would she go right back to the cellar with both wrists broken this time. The girl sighed, she didn't have much of a choice. Option A or Option B is a choice; Option A or Pain is not. She accepted the washcloth. She swallowed a shaky breath. "I'm not quite sure how long I was out there." She had to choose her words carefully. "I think several months. Maybe four or so?" She began to dab at the cuts on her face.  
  
"It must've been chilly," The woman poured more water over her head, "It was quite a chilly winter."  
  
 _What was she playing at?_ Hermione had no clue. "It wasn't so bad."  
  
"Give me that." Bellatrix snatched the washcloth back from her hands, a stern reminder that everything Bellatrix gave her could be easily taken away. She leaned in front of the girl, much too close for Hermione's comfort, and began dabbing at the bloody cuts her own hands had caused. "It's time to stop being so brave, girl." Bellatrix held Hermione's gaze--inches from her nose--before nonchalantly resuming her task. "The war is over, you don't have to protect your silly little friends anymore. It's time to start thinking about _you_ , pet. And how _you're_ going to survive this."  
  
Hermione couldn't help but hear the threat in the woman's words. She sat numbly as the woman completed her task then moved on to lathering shampoo on the girl's hair. She only vaguely felt the woman tugging on her hair, but that's not what brought tears to her eyes this time. If Harry and Ron were dead--at least Harry had to be for the war to be over--then what would she even have to escape to? Her parents had been obliviated and wouldn't know she existed. So many of the Order had already perished in the war, undoubtedly many more had if Voldemort had won in the end, as he was not known to be a merciful man. What would the outside world even look like with Voldemort in power? Surely muggle-borns like herself would be in much danger on the streets.  
  
"Danger indeed." Bellatrix commented.  
  
The girl was horrified. She'd been listened in upon this whole time. "Don't do that." She bit.  
  
But Bellatrix only laughed, "I hardly think that you are in any position to demand anything from me." She gave a yank on the girl's hair for good measure.

She spent the rest of her time in the bath tub observing her own body. She was thinner than she remembered, her elbows and knees more bony than normal. And she was bruised or cut about everywhere. She gently rinsed her bloodied knees and her other various cuts. Deep bruises were forming in a hand print on her upper arm and all over her knees. She certainly looked battered. She'd put her body through a lot.  
  
Only several minutes later, Hermione was told to rise from her warm comfort. The crisp air on her skin made her long to sink back into the water and fall asleep for days. "There we are, pet. Good girl."  
  
The embarrassment hit her hard again as she realized what she'd been doing. She'd just let _Bellatrix_ _Lestrange_ give her a _bath_ for crying out loud. And to add to the embarrassment, the woman was carefully inspecting her now. "You'll heal fine." She deemed before rapping the girl in a large towel. "Now let's get you to bed."  
  
At this point, Hermione was sure she'd never felt so exhausted. The warm bath water seemed to drain all the fight out of her for the day. Bellatrix was right, she just wanted to go to sleep. After a thorough rub down, the girl was handed a folded clothing item. She wearily let it unfold as she held it to reveal a light green one-sie. She thought it'd been odd because it'd been years since she'd worn one, but Bellatrix's 'all or nothing' comment won her over quickly and she slipped it on. It was warm, ensconcing her in soft fabric. She was sure it was the softest thing she'd ever worn, especially after how scratchy her clothes had gotten from over-use.  
  
When she was returned to the room, the lights were off and the abrupt darkness blocked her night-vision. But clearly, Mrs. Lestrange knew where to go. Hermione shuffled along the floor with closed eyes as she was lead to a soft bed and was welcomed into it with a yawn. She was sure she was already asleep by the time she laid down, otherwise, Bellatrix pulling a blanket over her and wishing her a "Goodnight, pet" wouldn't have made any sense. Neither would the soft sensation she'd been _sure_ was a kiss on her cheek. Nothing made sense, but luckily, it didn't have to anymore as she drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter Three

When the girl drifted out of her sleep, she was confused. At first, she was sure she was just inheriting the feeling from the day before, but quickly realized that she felt... Off. Her eyes flickered open and she was face-to-face with a lion plushie. _Why_? Why would Bellatrix give her a plushie? And why, out of all things, would it be a lion--an animal that reminded her so much of who she was as a Gryffindor. Hermione closed her eyes again, desperately wondering when things would start to make sense again.  
  
Something was still so off. Her eyes flashed open again, this time daring her to look around. She almost wished she hadn't. As she inspected her surroundings, she came to discover that she was in a _crib_ of all things. She thinks she'd prefer the cellar. It was bigger than an average crib, just big enough to contain her curled in a ball. And past the bars of the crib, was an eager Bellatrix. "Good morning, pet. We're going to start today off with some _rules_ , so that your... Expectations, are very clear for you."  
  
Hermione sat up. Well, as much as she could. There was a barred layer above her, enclosing her in the crib, and she only noticed it as she hit her head on it. She reached up to yank on it to find it well secured, but also found that her wrist didn't hurt her. She was surprised. "You... healed my wrist?" She muttered, utterly surprised that the woman would follow through on her word to heal her. What kind of game was the mad woman playing at?  
  
"First rule: no speaking." Bellatrix leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, "You must earn the right to speak."  
  
"That's absurd!" Hermione objected. She almost wished she hadn't by Bellatrix's reaction, which was to bang against the edge of the cage and shake it's bars. The action caused the girl to jump back and shrink on the opposite side of the small bed. She wondered if the crib was really so bad, as it also kept Bellatrix away.  
  
The woman pushed her face against the bars. With Hermione in the farthest corner, she was still far too close to the crazed look. "I will _not_ repeat myself, stupid girl." She growled. When she noticed the fear in the girl's eyes, she leaned back and howled a laugh. "That's the spirit, child." She planted her two feet back on the ground. "We've already covered the second rule: you must also earn the right to walk. You will crawl in the meantime." She scanned the girl's confused expression, almost daring for another objection. "You will do as you're told, immediately. Failure to do so will result in punishment befitting the crime."  
  
None of what the woman was saying made any sense, as usual. But this time, Hermione was genuinely trying to keep up. These stipulations were what was expected of her, and would be enlightening to the situation she now found herself in. She'd need to know the rules so she could know how to break them.  
  
"And finally," Bellatrix flicked her wand at the top of the cage so the bars fell back. Hermione sat up straight, prepared to listen, but also stretched some. "If--for some godless reason--you absolutely _must_ speak, you are to refer to me as 'Mummy'."  
  
Hermione's jaw dropped as she processed the demand. The no speaking, the crawling, it was... Odd. But _Mummy_ was _insane_. The room, the rules, the title. They all sat uncomfortably in Hermione's stomach as the pieces shifted into place. Bellatrix wasn't preparing the room for a baby, the room was for _her_. The crib, the bath--it was all intended to infantilize the young woman. The idea... It was horrifying. That must be what the Lestranges' obsession with 'obedience' is all about. But it still didn't make any sense. Why, out of all people, would they choose Hermione? She was appointed the 'brightest witch of her age' for a reason. Surely, they wouldn't consider her the easiest target.  
  
"I think _n_ -" Hermione started, indignant with the insinuation that she would kowtow easily.  
  
The older woman snatched her by her hair and yanked her close, so that their faces were but inches apart yet again. It was not a position Hermione enjoyed finding herself in. "That _is_ the problem here, pet." She released her with a laugh. "Now come, girl. I do not wish to argue with you this early in the morning. I'm sure there will be plenty of time for that later." She mischievously dropped the side of the crib to let Hermione out.  
  
Hermione pulled herself to the edge of the bed and quickly threw her feet off the side. In case Bellatrix took back her kindness and decided to lock her back up. She slid to the floor, finally feeling the tension in her body ease slightly at being able to stand fully up-right. Even so, she was still several inches shorter than Mrs. Lestrange. Just short enough to fully receive Bellatrix's glare down the bridge of her nose. It was her pompous ' _I dare you_ ' glare, and Hermione had come to associate it with the threat of harm.  
  
The girl lowered herself to the ground. She didn't see much of another choice at the moment. She could have refused, but knew Bellatrix's retaliation would be hell to pay. Her hand was healed, but the rest of her body surely wasn't. Her bruises still throbbed and her knees still ached. No, she would need her strength if she were to attempt a fight with Bellatrix Lestrange. And that moment was not right then. "Good girl." Hermione's cheeks flamed with embarrassment of her decision. Even with such a small concession--in the grand scheme of things--she felt like she was giving up. But the girl shook the thought from her mind, giving up and saving her strength were not the same thing. She at least needed something to eat before she'd fight Bellatrix today.  
  
At the most brief thought of food, Hermione's stomach roared with hunger. She supposed it had been quite some time since she had a full meal. Certainly not yesterday, which was spent mostly in the cellar. And while she was on the run with Harry and Ron, they mostly just snacked on what they could find--which wasn't much.  
  
Bellatrix must've heard, because she cast a curious gaze behind her to the girl as she lead them from the room. "Have you eaten in the past several days, pet? You may nod yes or no."  
  
The girl dragged herself behind the woman, keeping just behind the trail of the woman's dress. She found herself stubbornly nodding, even though it wasn't entirely true.  
  
"Do not _dare_ lie to me, girl." The woman clinched her fist, reminding herself that she at least wanted breakfast before she had to correct the girl's behavior today. "Were they full meals?"  
  
Seeing the balled fist and remembering Bellatrix's knack for legilimency, Hermione hung her head and shook it. She supposed the last full meal she'd had was at the Weasley's, which felt like ages ago. Because it basically was. She allowed herself--however briefly--to wonder what they were doing at the moment. Were they all alright? Had they missed her?  
  
"Of course," Bellatrix said. For a moment, Hermione deceived herself into being comforted. Perhaps the woman had poked around in her thoughts and was still feeling her kick to make the girl feel better, as she'd seen in irregular occasions already. But as usual, she was incorrect when it came to the motives of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Its no wonder, really, that a girl like you couldn't even manage to feed herself. We'll be very cautious of that here, muddy."  
  
  
"You'll set there, girl." Bellatrix waved her to a chair as she herself sat at the head of the table. Hermione glanced around the dinning area and thought it curious that Bellatrix would be sitting at the head and that Rodolphus would be sitting to her right. But she should have expected as much. She pulled herself into her own appointed chair, which was slightly to the left of Bellatrix's, as if to keep her close to the woman. The girl sat uncomfortably in the chair, the wood feeling especially stiff underneath her, even if it was lightly padded by the thick one-sie that she still wore. Bellatrix and Rodolphus were both fully clothed and looked as though they've already been up for quite a while. Hermione ran a confused hand down her face, trying to rid it of the last remnants of sleep.  
  
"Kreacher!" Rodolphus' voice boomed, startling Hermione, "You may begin." He sounded impatient, just like his wife in that moment. And Kreacher--the Black's family house elf that seemed to be inherited through the eldest Black daughter--seemed to know better than to keep them waiting. The elf lead a small team of half a dozen elves carrying plates and platters to the occupants at the table. Dishes of eggs and sausages were placed close to where the Lestranges' plates already waited. Hermione's eyes bulged at the sight; it was more food than she'd seen in months.  
  
Hermione almost gave in and let herself reach for one of the pastries in front of her, when a flat plate of creamy, clumpy goop was placed before her. It looked like applesauce, almost, but thicker. And it certainly did not smell sweet, but more earthy or green. She honestly had no clue what it was, but could only assume it was some sort of puree concoction designed to let her starve. She glanced around for direction--or at least some clue as to what was going on--and caught glimpse of Bellatrix regarding her heavily. "Go on, pet. That's your breakfast." She noted.  
  
The girl glanced around her plate. She was, indeed, hungry enough to eat this... Whatever it was. But it seemed she wasn't even provided utensils. Maybe it was some sort of mistake. She had been invited to their table to eat, maybe they did intend to show her some dignity after all. "How am I meant to eat this?"  
  
There's a sudden loud, bang from the table. Once Hermione's nerves settled, she found Bellatrix's fists against the wood and a furious glare radiating from the woman directly to the girl's soul. Hermione's jaw set and she was about to make a defense, when she's interrupted.  
  
"You know you're not meant to speak, darling. I would avoid it as to avoid Mummy's temper." Rodolphus' light advisement fell on unwilling ears.  
  
Hermione stood abruptly from her seat. She had a thing or two to say about this infantilization business. "You will _not_ silence me. You can beat me, you can lock me in cellars. And you can humiliate me. But I will _never_ lose myself. You cannot keep me quiet." Hermione found herself yelling by the end.  
  
"Oh, we'll see about that." Bellatrix threw her head back with a cackle in a way that completely jarred the girl. Wasn't she supposed to get angry with her? "Now, if you're quite done..." She gave Hermione the opportunity to have another outburst, which the girl was far too bewildered to take her up on. "You'll sit back down and eat your breakfast. With your hands. As with most disorderly, little girls.  
  
The young witch found herself lowering back down to her seat, almost disappointed in Bellatrix's lack of reaction. The woman was so unpredictable. Hermione was hoping to discover the key to the older witch's mind, a way to somehow anticipated the woman's behavior. But at every turn, Bellatrix did the most opposite, craziest response the girl could have guessed. How would she ever get out of here if she couldn't even read her captors well enough to know what would set them off. As Hermione two her fingers into the warm paste, she miserably accepted that she'd most likely be there a while. The girl rubbed a bit of the liquid between her fingers to discover that it was grittier than she'd expected, and she lifted it to her nose. It certainly had vegetables in it, and likely some sort of meat. For as hungry as she was, it wasn't the most appetizing-looking food she'd ever seen. Hermione was never more glad that she wasn't very picky.  
  
Hermione placed the two fingers gently against her lips and sucked the paste off. It certainly wasn't the most lady-like thing she'd ever done. Her mother would probably lose her mind if she saw her. But, luckily, the food tasted better than she expected. It wasn't good, under any sort of the imagination, but certainly not terrible. The second it fully hit her tongue, she knew what it was. Baby food. Another unfortunate surprise that she should have seen coming.  
  
For as much as she truly didn't mind the taste and had desperately craved nutrition, Hermione could not have helped herself. Her jaw fell open and she spit the food out, it fell back to it's plate with a sickening _squish_.  
  
It was the sound that set Bellatrix off. She'd been enjoying her own breakfast when she'd heard it and, upon investigation, discovered Hermione's bold objection of the food. "How _dare_ you?" She rose to her feet almost instantly, much faster than Hermione had only moments before. "How _dare_ you reject such a generous donation? And with such poor manners." She seemed surprised, although Hermione couldn't see how she could be.  
  
Bellatrix was upon her before Hermione could even escape her chair. "You _stupid, ungrateful_ girl." She brought a heavy hand across the girl's face, knocking her entirely from the chair to the floor. "We invite you into our home," She began to circle the girl, who was collapsed in a pile, trying to shield her face from future blows, "We give you shelter, we clothe you. We feed you! And _this_ is how you'll repay us! Its unacceptable!" The last word vaguely reminded the girl of the reprimands of the despised headmistress in fifth year. Hermione hated that woman.  
  
The older witch paused her circling to laugh at the poor thing. "Oh? Nothing to say know, I see?" Her cackle rung in Hermione's ears for only a moment before she felt long fingers reach into her hair and yank her up. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out, but she couldn't help the pooling tears in her eyes. She didn't cry, luckily, knowing that even though she had cried before the woman previously, the moment she didn't at least fight it would be the moment she'd be incarcerated here forever.  
  
Hermione was being dragged. She couldn't tell where to, as she was having a difficult time keeping her feet underneath her, but knew they were at least going back up the stairs. Whimpering, she followed Bellatrix down a hallway, before she recognized the path leading back to her room. She'd be relieved to be back in there. It was comfortable enough, and between just those four walls, she'd have some time to think. Maybe create a plan of action. But, as usual, Bellatrix did not do as expected.  
  
She dragged Hermione into her room and the girl was alright slightly encouraged by how warm it looked with the curtains allowing light in. That feeling was soon ripped away as she was dragged far into the room, towards a door on the far wall. Bellatrix slung the door open and tossed the girl inside. Hermione glanced around frantically and realized she was in a closet. A small, cramped, windowless closet. Maybe only a fourth of the size of the room she had in the cellar yesterday. "No, no, no, no--" She began.  
  
Bellatrix ignored her. "Its of no use. You've earned this. When you're ready to be civil and act _correctly,_ you may call out and apologize." The older woman crossed her arms. "Until then, you will sit." And she slammed the door.  
  
It was _so_ dark. And cold. Just like when she woke up in the cellar yesterday. Hermione couldn't see anything, not even the tip of her nose. She waved a hand in front of her face just to check; Nope. Nothing. Alone, in the deafening quiet, Hermione felt she had no choice but to cry. Why would she do something so _stupid_ as to spit the food out? She truly was starving. She couldn't have just sucked it up and dealt with it? Its not like eating with her hands was the worst thing that's ever happened to her.  
  
She was sure she'd only been in the darkness for a few minutes when she heard the lock turning. Surely Bellatrix hadn't come this soon to let her out? Perhaps she only wanted to gloat. Hermione knew that she'd let her. The door opened and she was ready to fall to Bellatrix's feet and beg, when she was surprised to see Rodolphus standing in the doorway. "Hello, love." He squatted so that he was near her level. He reached in his pocket and produced a rolled up napkin. "Thought I'd bring you something. Sometimes Mummy can be a little harsh."  
  
Ignoring the strange title, Hermione craned her neck as he opened the napkin to reveal two sausages that'd been on the table. "I know you were just hungry." He placed the first link to her lips and she opened. She knew she shouldn't, but he was doing something kind. Or--really--kindness or not, food was something she needed. She quietly allowed him to feed her the two links, watching the smirk on his face with big, baffled eyes.  
  
When they were done, Hermione felt strangely guilty--like she had done something wrong. She didn't have the energy to push for why she felt that way. "Maybe we shouldn't tell Mummy, alright?" Rodolphus winked as she nodded weakly. "That's a good girl, it'll be our secret."  
  
Despite the spot of food, her stomach did not feel satisfied. Or better at all, for that matter. She felt dirty, and her stomach sat heavy within her as Rodolphus shut and re-locked the door. Hermione cried again.


	4. Chapter Four

Rodolphus hadn't done her any favors by sneaking her those sausage links. In fact, with only a tiny bit of food, her stomach seemed to remember what it was and--therefore--knew what it was lacking. Hermione was prepared for the dull ache of starvation throughout her body, but not for the roaring hunger the snack had brought with it. At first, the girl decided to throw her mind back to the last full meal she'd had. It was at the Weasley's, she was sure, as she'd been there for most of the summer. The girl supposed the largest meal she'd ate was for right before Ginny left for Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione had already decided they wouldn't be returning, as they were needed to help Harry complete his mission, but it wasn't a decision either of them took lightly. Hermione loved school, and everyone adored Hogwarts. Her and Ron were both saddened to not return. So Molly Weasley had gone all-out, preparing a going-away dinner for Ginny in an effort to improve moral.  
  
It'd worked. Hermione stuffed herself with the woman's delicious homemade dishes, like her famous casseroles and sweet desserts. It was almost like Christmas but on a normal Thursday. No one thought of the impending war or needing to move Harry from Privet Drive. They had tried to invite him, offering to move him early, but he insisted it was far more safe to stick to the schedule. Everyone knew he was right. His presence was still missed.  
  
Hermione still missed him, and Ron of course. That's why she couldn't bare to think back to all the laughs and conversations they'd shared over meals through the years. Not while she was trapped in this closet, and they were likely dead because of her. It hurt too much.  
  
So Hermione tried a different tactic to distract herself. She couldn't bare to dwell on the past that haunted her, so she decided to speculate on the future. She was always best at that, deciding to ignore the pains of the past to look ahead. It was so proactive of her, to always have a plan. It comforted her. Where would she want to go _when_ she got out of here? Hermione was sure she'd want to go find her parents. Last she knew, she'd seen them off to the airport on their way to Australia. Of course, they hadn't even hugged her goodbye, as she watched from a distance as they departed. Hermione hoped her parents would understand why she had to do what she did. She'd go find them and take a damn vacation for once. Go visit the oldest monuments in the country. Finally get to some of the books she'd been meaning to start.  
  
With a startling discovery, Hermione hoped that using a restroom would be on the list of things she hoped to do in the near future. She cursed herself as she noticed the sensation, and feeling the uncomfortable pressure in her lower abdomen, along side her hunger pains. She hadn't gone at all when she'd been in the cellar, as she was unconscious for most of her time there. And there hadn't been time this morning, when Bellatrix pulled her from her sleep and directly to the dinning room for the ill-fated breakfast. The girl guessed she hadn't peed since a full day ago. No wonder she had to go so badly.  
  
She knew that things were about to get bad, quickly. Distracting herself would work, but only temporarily. And the feeling was becoming more urgent with each passing second. As she pressed her legs together, Hermione wondered why the urge hit her so suddenly. Perhaps it was due to the general state of her; dehydration and malnutrition kept her from noticing sooner, as her body fought to keep every nutrient within her for as long as possible. She didn't know. But whatever was keeping her from needing to pee earlier, clearly wasn't a factor now.  
  
Hermione bit her lip. She had a decision to make. She wouldn't hold out too much longer, which meant peeing right here in this closet or grovel to Bellatrix in hope of mercy. The girl honestly wasn't sure which one would be worse. Honestly, peeing in the closet would at least make a bold statement. It might be inevitable, as Hermione wasn't keen on relying on Bellatrix's grace to let her out and to the bathroom so easily. But then the girl thought of the consequences, as there always seemed to be with the Lestranges. Hermione might feel satisfied by being more stubborn than Bellatrix, but it would be a fleeting feeling in comparison to the anger Bellatrix would display. At least begging would be over fairly quick and could maybe put the older witch in a brighter disposition, which the girl hoped would ease the rest of the day.  
  
Time was not on her side in making the decision. She needed a calculated concession to get her out of this current predicament.  
  
"Bella--" She stopped herself from calling out the full name to swallow her pride, "Mummy?"  
  
She waited. Nothing. " _Mummy_?"  
  
Still no movement on the other side of the door. "Mummy!" She gulped. "I'm sorry!" It sounded so ridiculous in her own ears, but the pressure against her bladder pushed her to keep trying. "I--I... My behavior was completely incorrigible. I'm sorry for being so ungrateful. I'm... I'm ready to behave now. Please let me out!"  
  
She had resorted to pushing on her lap with her palms by the time she heard movement. "Mummy?" She was desperate enough to say anything. "Mummy, are you there? Please open the door?" Hermione whimpered.  
  
"Mummy's here." The smirk could be heard through the door. "Go ahead."  
  
"Please open the door." Hermione placed a palm flat against the door, willing it to open with some kind of deep, hidden, wandless and nonverbal magic. "I need to use the restroom. Very badly."  
  
Bellatrix cackled. "I'll open the door, pet, when I hear my apology. Go on."  
  
Tears flowed down Hermione's cheeks as she realized she wasn't sure she'd make it even if the door opened right then. The pressure was too strong, there was no way she could waddle across the room quick enough. "I---I, I'm sorry. I'll behave, I'll behave. I promise! Please let me out. I promise." But it was too late, and the door hadn't opened an inch. Against her will, a small trickle escaped. She shifted again, still whimpering "I'll behave" over and over. The girl realized with horror that a second trickle had also escaped, but this she couldn't stop in time and freely released into her pajamas. After she realized she couldn't stop it, she focused on appreciating the several seconds of warm release, as she knew there'd be hell to pay.  
  
The door creaked open after several beats of silence.  
  
"You filthy thing." Bellatrix gasped.  
  
The girl waited for the other shoe to drop. How would the older woman react? Or really, will she be just angry or purely furious?

Bellatrix took hold of the girl's arm with an iron grip then pulled her completely off her feet. Hermione found that being touched was particularly revolting in that particular moment. Feeling so sticky between her legs made her more adverse to the woman's touch than normal, causing her to be emboldened enough to resist.

"Get _off_ me." The young witch yanked her arm free. "Just let me go!" She backed slowly towards the door to the bedroom.

The woman laughed. It was the hardest, most sincere cackle Hermione had heard since she'd awaken in this nightmare. Bellatrix was laughing at her. "Oh, _dearie me_." She feigned fright. "Are you... Upset?" She laughed again as she saw the stubborn glint return to the girl's eye. "Perhaps baby girl needs a nap?"

"I am _not_ your baby!" Hermione screamed, almost surprised by how vicious she sounded. "So you can stop trying to make me into one. It is sick and cruel!" She dared another step towards the door. "You are a cruel, _cruel_ woman, Bellatrix Lestrange. When the Department of Magic hears of this--"

Annoyingly, the woman interrupted her with another giggle. "Oh, you foolish girl. The Department of Magic is no more. It stands in name, but the Dark Lord controls even the Minister himself." She reveled in the pure destruction written across the girl's face. "Can't get it through that thick skull of your's? The world out there, that you think is going to save you, is no more. _Potte_ _r_ ," She spat, "And those silly little weasels have all perished under the Dark Lord's reign. Little Muddies like you have been either put out of their misery or been assigned to the Lord's most loyal followers." Bellatrix took a dangerous step towards the girl. "So, honestly, you should consider yourself lucky. Unless, of course, you'd rather be a ward of the Dark Lord himself..." She smirked, and stepped up to the girl once again.

Hermione had had enough of the woman's games for the moment. She closed the short distance between herself and the mad witch, and punched her. She had hit Draco some years ago, and felt very accomplished about the subject, but never in her life had she felt such satisfaction than she did by punching Bellatrix Lestrange. She knew she perhaps should have considered the consequences a bit more, but honestly, she'd sleep well tonight--wherever she was--knowing that the woman had had a taste of her own medicine.

Bellatrix's head snapped back in a manic laugh. Her lip was swollen and bleeding now, and she lapped up the blood with her tongue in a grotesque reach for control. The woman seemed genuinely entertained by the development, and not nearly as furious as Hermione had expected. She even had to clutch her side as she bent over to alleviate the stitch forming there. She pulled her wand, still cackling, and Hermione fully expected to see that familiar green glow, one she'd personally seen leave the woman's wand many times before.

Instead, she just heard a calm "Incarcerous" through soft, winded chuckles. Hermione barely felt the ropes snake around her, but was painfully aware of the way they constricted around every major joint in her body.

"Wingardium leviosa." Bellatrix sounded excited, like a child first levitating anything, as she waved her wand. Hermione couldn't move her neck to look around, but she felt herself be lifted from the ground by invisible hands and guide her to a table against the wall. She couldn't complain too much, the table was comfortable and padded, and Hermione considered herself lucky to be alive after what she'd just done, not that anything resembling gratefulness would've come from her mouth if she could use it.

"Well, little girl, since you've proven you can't be trusted, we'll just have to add _protection_." The older witch laughed.

Hermione, on the other hand, had no idea what the woman could mean. She was frustrated with not having a clue what was going on, as the feeling was unfamiliar and uncomfortable in itself. But she also felt frustrated with not knowing what to expect. She'd go from feeling frightened to brief relief to anger in a matter of moments. She couldn't read Rodolphus and had _no_ clue what to expect from Bellatrix. It was maddening.

The girl felt anger surface again, frustration and confusion lingering behind flushed cheeks and clinched fists. Hermione shouted, though her specific words of anger were lost, inhibited by Bellatrix's hex. But she shouted every angry thought she felt, every vile thought she'd had of Bellatrix since meeting her and her husband, even going as far as calling their home ugly. Hermione didn't consider herself a spiteful girl, but could not withhold herself from lashing out at the infuriating woman with promise of little repercussions. And although Hermione was more frustrated and angry than she'd been since... Possibly since Ron's _dalliance_ with Lavender last year--yelling at Bellatrix felt... Therapeutic, somehow.

The most interesting part of her episode was Bellatrix's reaction. The older woman waited patiently, any trace of her earlier boredom replaced with such innate fascination that Hermione almost though she was being understood. Still, she screamed until her throat went raw, which really wasn't that long as she was severely dehydrated, Hermione noted as her mouth felt dry. As she stopped to catch her breath, Bellatrix only smirked. Oh, what Hermione would give to _not_ have to hear whatever Bellatrix would have to say next.

"Well, pet," She smacked her lips, "That was _quite_ a bit of ruckus. I do hope that you've had enough of that for now." The older witch stepped up to the table where Hermione lay, and the girl felt very vulnerable after her emotional display and prone position. She shouldn't have felt surprised when the woman began plucking at her clothes, but it still caught her off guard. Even though the woman has shown no regard for Hermione's comfort, the girl was alarmed by the lack of warning. Bellatrix had to remove the entirety of the girl's pajamas to deal with what Hermione assumed to be her... accident. Her urine smelled sour and strong, stronger than she'd ever remembered it, even after months in the woods. She attributed that, too, to the dehydration.

Hermione willed herself not to feel the embarrassment that warmed her cheeks, as she knew her actions were understandable. She'd not been given the opportunity to relieve herself for quite some time, and then been locked in a closet in an incredibly stressful situation. Anyone would've been forced to do the same as she. But the anger she held onto so desperately as she felt Bellatrix remove her pajamas and lay her bare on the table barely concealed her true emotion.

"Tergeo." Bellatrix whispered, attentively moving around Hermione's waist.

Relief. She'd never admit it to herself, and _certainly_ never to anyone else. But in the deepest, darkest corner of her mind, she felt alleviated. The closet was dark and lonely. She _knew_ her actions were reasonable given the circumstances; she hadn't _wanted_ to pee herself. But since she had--even though she was still _very_ angry about it--Hermione was at least glad to be cleaned up. She realized with dread and confusion that Bellatrix could've left her in there with wet, sticky clothes and her own humiliation. Why didn't Bellatrix do that?

"There we are pet, all cleaned up." Bellatrix tossed the wet clothes in a basket near her feet, "You've wasted valuable time in that closet, but you've learned your lesson, it seems." Bellatrix crossed her arms satisfactorily. "Just as well. After all, Mummy does have other important things to do than look after a silly little girl all morning." The witch dropped the Incarcerous curse. Hermione sat straight up, ready to object, when Bellatrix beat her to it. "It's time for lunch now, muddy. Time to show us what you've learned. Or do we need to take another turn in the closet?" The woman suggested giddily, as if she hadn't just threatened to throw the girl back into the cell for several more hours. Her mood only improved when she saw the anxious look on the girl's face, her eyes nervously darting to the closet door and back. As if deciding which was the lesser of two evils. For now, Hermione chose the witch.

Bellatrix was good at reading people, knowing full and well the power she held over others well enough to spot the concession in Hermione's slumped posture. As much as she truly reveled in the defeat, it wasn't enough. She lifted her chin, to give the girl the infamous glare down her nose that she was known for. Hermione immediately understood. Bellatrix wanted to hear her say it. "No, Mummy."

The title sat weird in her mouth. As the first time she'd used the title while in the closet, it was a moment of desperation and Hermione hadn't felt like she had much of a choice. But here, to hear her own voice actively choose Bellatrix--even if it was to avoid a worser fate--felt... Strange. Bad. She'd never really used the title before. She'd called her own mother "Mother" for as long as she could remember. She wasn't sure if the term was used more frequently in the wizarding world, only hearing Ginny as the singular Weasley to refer to Molly as such, out of all her siblings. Maybe it was a daughter thing? After reflecting for a moment, Hermione realized it didn't much matter in the long run, as the term would be forever ruined for her because of the Lestrange woman.

"That's right, girl." Bellatrix basked in the submission, before turning on her heels. "Come. I'm famished."

The girl went to swing her feet to the edge of the table, when an unfamiliar sensation rested between her legs. Upon investigation, any relief she felt was replaced by abstract horror. "Am I... In a _diaper_?" She spat the word, as if it was repulsive. Because, to her, it was. As if the peeing herself wasn't reprehensible enough. The fabric was shaped mostly like normal panties, though thicker. They were without straps or anything... ' _Pull-ups_ ' if she had to guess. And Bellatrix hadn't bothered to replace her pants, so the diaper was on grand display along with her bruised legs. The sight was very disturbing.

Bellatrix, on the other hand, was angry. She took hold of the girl's arms and threw her from the table. Hermione's already bruised knees took the fall the hardest, a particularly nasty bruise on her right knee breaking open at the impact and spilling blood. The girl sucked in her lips and made to stand, knowing she wouldn't fair well in a fight with Bellatrix from any position, but especially from beneath her.

She placed her right foot underneath her and shifted her weight to find that her joints wouldn't support the strain. Hermione attempted a second time, maybe her legs were just stiff from being in the closet so long? But again, her legs failed her. "Why can't I walk?" Her voice shook, daring a glance up, knowing that Bellatrix was surely the cause of this horrific development.

The older woman righted her clothes, towering over the girl. "The diaper is clearly enchanted. As you have proven yourself completely incompetent, you are now _completely_ unable to walk." Hermione massaged her shaky, bleeding knee.

* * *

Hermione once again found herself crawling behind Bellatrix Lestrange as they entered the dining area. She could hardly believe that she was following along, really. She didn't feel like herself, she felt off, rejecting that this is who she was these days. She was just so _tired_. Hermione wasn't sure she was thinking straight at all, a most debilitating feeling for one who liked to always feel intellectually in control. Perhaps if she just got a good nights sleep, she'd be able to think more clearly.

But if she was given grace earlier by the older witch, she certainly wasn't given it any longer. "Sit, pet." Bellatrix demanded, motioning towards the same empty seat that Hermione had sat in earlier that day. Though her knees and wrists were getting tired, she dragged herself to the seat. She longed for food--of any kind--and possibly some water that would make her feel less awful. It seemed that the Lestranges were incredibly adept at using Hermione's own body to their advantage. The puree on the table looked orange this time, and somehow slightly more appetizing than the last time. It was maybe some sort of carrot mush; Hermione liked carrots.

She quietly scooped the blend into her mouth, focusing on the action and ignoring the looks she felt from the other tenants at the table. It still tasted horrid, but the girl found that she didn't much mind, as it felt fulfilling in her stomach. Hermione was even slightly grateful for the puree, as she wasn't sure what kind of food could be processed by her weak stomach after weeks in the woods. But this food was warm and Hermione was hungry, so she scooped every bit that she could into her mouth, stopping just short of licking the bowl clean. By the end, when she was sure she could eat no more, the girl guiltily glanced to the Lestranges. Perhaps she should've ate a little slower.

"The girl was hungry." Rodolphus noted, with a twinge of a fond coo in his tone.

Bellatrix grinned in response, tactfully eating her own meal with great decorum. "Perhaps we should feed her more." The woman commented flippantly.

Hermione felt her ears go hot first, desperately reaching out through magical for her wand, as if it'd come to her when called. She knew Bellatrix was fishing for Hermione to act out again, undoubtedly to revel in her punishment. But Hermione decided that, this once, she wouldn't give her that. She bit her tongue. It felt unusually dry and she remembered how much... Liquid she'd lost recently. Diverting her attention, the girl glanced around her plate in search of a drink instead of searching for another ill-fated dispute with the older witch. Hermione sighed as she found the bottle sitting to the right of her plate. The liquid within it looked clear--most definitely water--but designed to force the girl into her _role_ within the Lestrange Manor.

That's where she drew the line for herself. For that moment, in the very least. She'd give up her dignity by crawling and eating the carrot paste. But that was in the name of nourishment and food. Hermione knew she desperately needed water as well, but couldn't quite reconcile it with everything else she'd conceded that day. Enough was enough. She sat up straighter in her chair.

Bellatrix noticed, as she seemed to notice everything. "Hm," She exhaled, "Muddy appears to be done being cooperative. I am quite done with her attitude for today." Hermione needed to close her eyes to take a deep breath; she hadn't even _done_ anything. "Bring her back upstairs, would you, hubby?"

Hermione panicked.


End file.
